


I Had Choices - Reverend Miles

by DixieDale



Series: The Life and Times of One Peter Newkirk [57]
Category: Clan O'Donnell - Fandom, Hogan's Heroes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-19
Updated: 2018-06-19
Packaged: 2019-05-25 04:54:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14969531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DixieDale/pseuds/DixieDale
Summary: The Reverend Miles had been a friend to Haven since his earliest days ministering to the village and surrounding areas, was there to witness Peter, then Andrew arriving to make their place at Haven, there to offer assistance on their behalf.  Just as he had Maude and Marisol, even Caeide herself.  Listen, if you will, while he tells you about his life and the choices he made."I'm an old man, and of course, there have been many choices I've made over my years.  Not all were good ones, not all were ones others might approve of, but, for the most part, I'm satisfied with them.  They have allowed me to do some good, at least to my way of thinking; they have allowed me more happiness and contentment than I ever thought would be possible.  You may agree or disagree with my choices; that is YOUR choice.  But here is my story."





	I Had Choices - Reverend Miles

I'm an old man, and of course, there have been many choices I've made over my years. Not all were good ones, not all were ones others might approve of, but, for the most part, I'm satisfied with them. They have allowed me to do some good, at least to my way of thinking; they have allowed me more happiness and contentment than I ever thought would be possible.

First, deciding I couldn't follow in the path of my father, marrying and raising a family, acting the small country squire as he did in our small corner of Wales, a bit north of Llandovery, that was an important choice. I knew even then I'd be playing false to some trusting lass, knew I'd not be giving my heart. There were other options, though not many, and only one that really would ease my family's mind, let them be comfortable with my choosing something different than they all had chosen. They would certainly not accept what I truly yearned after, the theatre, going on the stage, and of course, finding a love to suit me.

When it came down to it, it was either the army or the ministry, and I knew I was not suited for the first, much less even than the latter. Well, I went to the seminary; no, I knew I'd not be giving my full heart there either, but somehow it seemed God would be less hurt by that than some sweet lass, more understanding, and it would perhaps be a life where I could do some good. I kept my vows, too, for the most part, though I was rather flexible with my interpretation of them, as I felt I needed to be, and I've never felt He was terribly displeased with me. Of course, it could be He just didn't bother to speak to me very much, or even give me any thought, but I don't think that was the case. How else would I have been so blessed in my life, and in such unexpected ways?

My first assignment was to a tiny village in the north of Wales; my first assignment and my last. When I arrived and looked around, it never crossed my mind that this would be where I spent the rest of my days. I'd been told I'd be posted here for a trial period, probably two years, then, well, then they'd see where I suited best. At the end of that time, though, I was well pleased to stay, and the locals they were pleased to have me stay, so things were left as they were. I've never regretted that.

One of my early choices after my arrival, well, I think that choice determined the rest of my life, in many ways, brought me happiness, brought me satisfaction like I never expected to find. And it was a big choice, one I'd not been expecting to have to make.

See, what the Church hadn't mentioned, what I doubt they even knew? It wasn't the village alone I'd be dealing with, the village and the surrounding area. There was a homestead, rich in land, strong in influence, but private in nature, with a culture, ways of its own, not like to the rest of my flock. Well, they were NOT part of my flock, as such, though they came to be my friends.

The owners lived in a small cottage, only three rooms proper, but there were several outbuildings, including a rather remarkable library housed in one small building all its own, along with a weaving hut, and dairy, and stillroom, and many others, added by Haven's owners down through the generations, Haven being very old, very old indeed. Haven Homestead it was called then, run by two women, perhaps a few years older than me, still young and strong and handsome; Agnera O'Donnell and Kathleen. I don't know that I ever heard Kathleen's last name; for a time I thought them to be sisters, though certainly they looked nothing alike. Agnera was mid-height, shapely and fair, with a sprinkling of freckles across her nose, long dark red hair. Kathleen was tall and dark-haired, more willowy.

It was only later that the reality slowly came to me, that they were what I had no word for in my world, married in all ways by their own custom, except that the prevailing law of the land and my religion not allowing for two females to be such. Gradually, as the liking and trust grew between us, I learned more of how this was, how it came to be, and I shook my head in wonder. Among Agnera's family, among what she called the Clan, this was not only allowed, but quite common; such partnerships between two women, and as I shyly inquired, also between two men, as common as the partnership between a woman and a man. Later I would learn that having three in a partnership was also well accepted, sometimes all of one sex, sometimes not.

I tried to keep envy from my heart, tried to be truly glad for them, and not think on the ways being born into such a Clan would have changed my life, let me be who I truly feel I am but have always kept set aside from my life. I think they knew, though, and perhaps that made their kind welcome, their generous acceptance of me even greater.

That was my choice, you see, that I kept their secret, though it was no real secret in the area; however, the Church, my ersatz master, IT had no knowledge, and there was no doubt in my mind it would not take it kindly but would try to interfere, especially since they did not espouse the Christian religion, these Mistresses of Haven, the Christian god, but kept to their own beliefs. I made up my mind then, to try and protect this wonderous thing, this very different way of thinking about things, this very different way of living, and I've done my best through the years.

I'd been there some years when I was introduced to the newest member of that unusual family at Haven. I looked down at the bundle gently laid in my arms, "Maeve Trease O'Donnell, our new daughter," I was told, both women smiling in joy, but with a hint of sadness behind the joy. At my inquiring expression, for I tried always to be considerate in my questioning, I was told young Maeve was the daughter of Agnera's young second cousin, who, by their custom had followed her Bondmate into death, once their child had been born.

I was shocked at the idea, the taking of one's own life being taught to me as a great sin; however, again the ways of the Clan were different, and to let a Bondmate, the one loved beyond all others, travel what they called 'the long road' alone, was unthinkable. In most cases, I was told, one followed the other immediately, unless there was a task that MUST be accomplished first; in this case, it was allowing for this child to come to term and be born. Such children were always adopted within the Clan, raised in full knowledge of their parentage, raised to honor their parents, honor the following after, but well loved by their new parents.

I remember asking if they wanted young Maeve to be baptised, knowing well how my masters would consider such, and was a bit relieved, I must admit, at their smiling refusal. Well, truly it would have meant little to them, maybe even a insult to who and what they were. Young Maeve and I came to be solid friends, and I still smile at my memories of her, and mourn her passing.

And it wasn't just Maeve; others of the Clan came and worked at the homestead, learned from the two women, helped in time of need, and the more who came, the more I understood just how different these people were. 'Clan' they called themselves, 'Shantai'; all others, well they were called 'Outlanders', and while there was not contempt in such a calling, still it was a clear division between them and others. I came to feel honored that they let me inside their world, didn't seem to view me so much of an Outlander, though I'd never be Clan, I knew.

Of those who came, several were the children of Agnera's much younger sister Felane. In meeting Felane and her Bondmate, I learned also of the age difference most common between Bondmates, especially when one was woman, the other man. Twelve years seemed about the average; well, that wasn't so uncommon where I came from, except for the women seeming to Bond so early, fourteen been quite common. And the teaching, the training that started so very early, it all led to the year thirteen, when they were entered into something called an 'Internship', when they'd go forth into the world and study with Outlanders for a year; when they returned to the Clan, they would be considered adults and free to commence their lives as such, studying more, working, Bonding, as they chose. 

Of the children who visited, one was of particular note. Caeide, but a very few years younger than our sweet Maeve, she came and it was for her as if she was coming home. She grew to know most every crack and cranny of Haven, from the cliffs and caves to the beaches below, the fields, the orchards; and to the work, the livelihood of Haven, well, that came to her hand as if she was born to it, and she followed after Maeve, acting as her Second in all things. She became such a part, we all mourned when she had to leave for training, and later for her Internship.

Ah, that Internship! I feel honored that it was to me she turned, most often, to speak of that year, the friends she'd made, and the one whom she'd grown to love, to Bond with in a Bond unusual even among her own people. For she'd formed a Ta-Shea Bonding, where she had Bonded to one who had not Bonded to her in return, not the more usual Ta-Ket where two are Bonded each to the other. Much she told me, of this man, Peter, her mentor, an Outlander, the one she loved above all other. She said it had not been intentional, and that I believed; from what I had learned, not many Bondings were intentional, simply the drawing together of souls meant to be together in partnership. He had not acknowledged the Bonding, and perhaps had fought its impact on him, him being from London and being Outlander, to whom the difference between her thirteen years and his twenty-five were insurmountable, at least for now. Still, a Bonding it had been, and was, and she never wavered, through the many years.

Caeide came to us, here at Haven, halfway through her fourteenth year, became a permanent part of Haven. The four of them formed a good team, and many were the improvements, the changes, and more planned for the future. Then, life turned upside down when Kathleen was badly hurt, then died from a horse falling with her. Though I knew, still, it was a shock to me when Agnera followed, a shock and a great sadness. Now it was just Maeve and Caeide, with some help from their Clan, running Haven, still trying to make the changes they had all spoken off. They showed me the drawings once, and I shook my head in wonder at their ambition, for it was a grand scheme indeed.

Our sweet Maeve! Only a bit over twenty she was, when she was called away to serve a part in the big War, and when she returned, she spent only a day before she made her way to the SunStone and followed him to whom she had Bonded during her time away, her Liam. Then it was Caeide who became the Mistress of Haven, and even she was called away on a few occasions to take part in that great conflict. When I asked her, in some frustration and anger, what would become of Haven if SHE perished that way, she only smiled at me, and told me that Haven would always be, the Clan would always see that Haven was cared for. But there was no obvious Second to her, though there were many who came and helped; still, she was very much alone.

The villagers, well, many had an eye to the land, and thought to gather it to themselves, with her being the way and the means. Many the young man, aye, and some not so young, came up that long path to court her, and every one of them she turned away. She would never have dared speak openly to them, the ones in the village, even the ones she counted as friends, for fear such could be used against her in this small private battle. Only to me did she tell her heart; only to me, of any here, did she speak of her Peter, her Bondmate, her love, and I wondered if the time would ever come when he would come to claim her, to claim the richness of that steadfast love. I did not question her decision to remain true, for as she told me, "like the old song says, I have no heart left to give, and I'll not give false coin."

Well, didn't I make that same choice when I was even younger than she, though there had been no loved one, only an acknowledgement of my own being? I respected her for her decision, and yet hoped she'd be given more, hoped her heart would be allowed full scope for the love I knew she had inside her.

In time I learned more of her love, his battles, and the strangeness in which her heritage allowed her to give him some small assistance in those battles. Many would not have believed, but I had seen too much, experienced too much to doubt her. There is much I do not speak of, even now, but believe me, there is much I saw that I would have sworn could not be. She let me see inside her, shared with me, and I was proud for it to be so.

It was Caeide that took me to that far hillside, the one I'd long thought was only a rather crude joke in the family 'the far hillside with the shallow graves of those who have offended Haven past endurance,' I'd heard throughout the years. She was in a strange mood that morning when I arrived, just saddling her chestnut mare, a large flat burlap-wrapped package tied behind her saddle. She looked at me a long time, then asked if I wanted to accompany her, and out of concern for the bleak look on her face and out of some curiosity, I did, my grey pony striding along side her tall mare. It took time, and I don't know that I'd easily find my way again, but we rounded a corner and there was a sloping hillside, each grave with a marker, many with the names long vanished from age, some so old the markers actually crumbling away. She dismounted and I followed her to where she had already marked out a gravesite, surrounded it with rocks from the cliffs, and she took a new market out of the burlap and placed it at the head of the grave. 'Robert Hogan' it read, with various other bits and pieces, many not too kind or friendly, I must admit.

I had never before seen a marker with quite so much disapproving frankness. I swallowed, and looked at her.

"Do I know him?"

"No, and that's probably all to the good, though a most charming man he can be. But a right bastard he can be as well, too sure of himself, unwilling to think about the harm he can cause, and too little concerned about the welfare of those in his care, too willing to cause pain as petty revenge or for his own pleasure and ambition." The look on her face, in her eyes, well it made me glad I was not this man. She looked at me and gave a small smile, and flushed a bit.

"This was a bit of, well, you could say, catharsis, the carving of this; I ended up running out room, moved to the back, and when that was full, I thought to get it in place before I started a SECOND board!" We laughed together, but I knew she was serious. I was curious enough to walk to the rear, and indeed, the back of the marker was as full as the front, and none of the comments any more flattering!

I asked her about the others there on that hillside, and she gave me a brief history of some; well, I had never doubted making an enemy of Haven would be a bad notion; this was only proof of that. Still, there seemed to be no innocents buried there, only those seeking or causing harm, and I could not find it within myself to condemn what I saw.

Toward the end of the War, Caeide came to talk to me of what she'd set her oldest brothers to doing, the searching for three women in London's East End, which had become the target of the Nazi bombardment. Two were her mentors, Maude and Marisol, about whom she'd told me so much through the years. Solid friends they were, and she bore them great affection. The third, it was not a matter of affection, but of duty and respect; that one, she was the beloved sister to her Peter. To all three she had sent word, offering them a safer place, sustenance, a place by the fire at Haven. She was not asking my permission, nor would she have any reason to do so, but merely speaking as we did, as friends, of her thoughts and plans and dreams.

"The villagers, they might not like this so much," I remarked, and she smiled a bit grimly, "the villagers don't rule Haven; they never have, and never will; if necessary, I can repeat the lessons Haven has given them through the years to impress that upon them." I sincerely hoped, if the women did come, the village would be reasonable; the look in the girl's eye, well, I had no doubt of her resolve. I made a note to ask her at some time, perhaps over tea one day, just what those infractions, those lessons encompassed. I thought it might be most interesting, and in truth, it was. A bit frightening in some cases, but still interesting. I made up my mind to try to use what influence I had to soften the views of the locals, when the time came, as much for their sakes as for hers. 

And they did come; not the sister, no, for she had found refuge more to her liking, but the other two, and I was pleased and more than a bit relieved to see they were just as she had described. Well, things can get to be a bit fuzzy with time, you know, and some of the flaws forgotten. But these two, they were the same strong, capable, sensible women she'd told me of, and we became friends.

From them I heard even more of Caeide's Peter, Maude looking on him as a son, Marisol seeing him as a younger brother. They both confirmed what I'd suspected; he'd had feelings for the young Caeide, but the age difference, HER age, his own sense of what was right and acceptable, well, that prevented him from doing aught but protecting and teaching her, making sure to keep a firm distance between them. Well, all of that, along with his sheer stubornness, which the two agreed was of a most remarkable nature. All that they said, added to what young Caeide had told me through the years, made me most eager to make the acquaintance of the man.

Caeide had just completed the building of that new house, built from those drawings she had shown me once, to replace the old cottage, just moved into that one completed bedroom upstairs, and she welcomed the newcomers with open arms. A new team was formed, one I watched with interest from my familar place at their tea table. Each had skills, strengths, and together the Haven Caeide had spoken of, that Maeve and Agnera and Kathleen had dreamed of, it all started coming into form, stronger and stronger. The village was hesitant, but Magda Rhys led the way, and Mali Tanner followed right behind, and soon they had friends in the village, and few thought to question their right to be there. And the few that did, well, Caeide made her thoughts clear, and if those few still doubted, they knew to keep their thoughts to themselves.

And then the War came to a close, and the men who'd left, those who'd survived, they came drifting home. And one of those who came, was Caeide's own love, Peter. He arrived sick, barely able to stand, and his healing took longer than any of them liked to see, for it was a difficult healing, mind and spirit along with body. But heal he did, and I came to count him as a friend, and to treasure his friendship.

Those of the village, they were more hesitant over this man than they had been of Maude and Marisol, considering him much more of a threat. It was obvious Caeide cared about him deeply, and that troubled many. Some were troubled because they worried for her, that she would be taken advantage of, be hurt. Most, though, it was otherwise. Some were troubled that this outsider, this British soldier had come to this place when so many of their own men had not returned. Some were troubled at the thought of an outsider perhaps taking the Mistress of Haven as his own, them having made plans for that rich homestead, thinking one of their own men could somehow fill that position, no matter how unlikely that might be.

And Caeide? To begin with she was only vaguely aware of the turmoil his arrival had caused, her own joy and concern for him overriding all else. When it did come to her attention, the village and all who thought to gainsay her, to dictate to her, telling her to send him packing, telling her he was a risk to her and to them, well, she responded most heartily, and they learned what it meant to cause the displeasure of Haven. Those who visited, if they'd been the gainsayers, the door was firmly shut in their astonished faces. Those who issued invitations, well, she'd choose on how they'd responded to Peter's arrival. Purchases made, permission to cross her lands, to hunt there, all was dependent on their attitudes, and amazingly, and to my secret amusement, almost all quickly changed their tune. They might never accept her love, but by damned, they'd be polite or she'd know why!!!

Peter had been there long enough to be a goodly way along in his healing when Andrew came. Young Andrew, now there was an uncommon lad; a grown man, yet with some of the eager enthusiasm and joy of a child still within him; also an ex-soldier and veteran of the camp, skinny and with a slightly narrow face, brown hair and eyes like a puppy most often. A rare intelligence mixed with curiosity and kindness and enthusiasm and a deep yearning to be loved, an even deeper yearning to give love and have it accepted.

In my first meeting, it was apparent that he'd been hurt, had some healing of his own to do, but it was also apparent that he was wanted and needed at Haven. Peter's eyes were able to hide little of what he felt for this young friend of his, though I think he tried, at least in the beginning. Caeide and Maude and Marisol had all told me of Andrew, that they hoped he would join them, become a member of the family; I don't think, until I saw Peter and Andrew together at tea that long afternoon, I realized just what they meant. I waited for the old envy to fill me, but it didn't, for some reason; there only came a deep caring, a wanting for Peter to have this, for the two of them to have what I'd been denied.

And it was on the trip home that night, me in the cart behind my faithful old pony, that I thought on the look in Caeide's eyes as they met mine when we said our farewells; her warm acknowledgement and welcome and understanding; only then did I understand that the warmth and love I had seen in Peter's eyes as he looked at young Andrew, well, if I'd had a mirror, I would have seen those same feelings in my own old faded eyes when I looked at Peter. And while a part of me mourned that the feeling came to me so late, far too late, part of me rejoiced that I was given to experience the feeling in this lifetime.

There was some resistance to young Andrew, of course; it was only to be expected. The worst was probably right after I retired from my ministry, retired to that small cottage and garden Haven had given to me as a lifetime home, along with the young hound from Estelle's litter, one I called Ruth since she followed me everywhere, and a steady friendly pony to replace the older one who couldn't make it up the cliffs anymore, the older joining the small herd of retired animals living out their remaining days at Haven in safety and respect for their service. 

The Church, in its wisdom, had sent a new minister who was full of self-importance and not intending to change his city ways to perhaps better serve his new parish, for it was most obvious his new parish did not meet with his approval. I'd already heard about the charity baskets being stripped of their more choice bits, to join the parsonage basket in his own larder. Haven had started making up their own baskets, taking them direct to those in need, though they'd always before preferred to work through the Church, thinking to salve any wounded pride thereby. Reverend Dawkins had some harsh words for that, since the charity that passed throught his hands, well, that looked well on his reports to the Church, and bypassing him, lessened that record and kept from taking his toll, both in goods and coin, a toll never before taken, certainly not in my time.

He took me to task, also, for allowing what he called the scandelous situation at Haven, and told me most firmly he'd straighten all that out right away. He actually thought to put himself in Peter's place, not for any love of or regard for Caeide, him not even having met her yet, only seen her in passing, but for thinking of the richness of Haven, thinking he was more worthy of the benefit. I had no doubts that would NOT go well, and when I heard of his visit to Haven from young Andrew, I knew I was right. Of course, I did try to keep a straight face during the telling, but ended up having to laugh, "remove your hand from my wrist, or I'll remove YOUR hand from YOUR wrist!" all backed up with a sharp blade? I would have loved to have been a wee mouse watching that; I could just imagine him gobbling like one of Haven's turkeys! 

I heard of him taking Peter to task in front of Davie and Magda Rhys, gaining no favor with them from the language he felt free to use in front of Magda; I heard of him berating young Andrew at the marketplace, again using language not taken kindly by the young man OR by the villagers who witnessed it, and I knew it wouldn't be long.

I was right, it was the next morning when Caeide came visiting on that tall dappled chestnut mare she favored, one of those Haven was becoming known for. We talked and discussed, and although I had some slight hesitation, I still think my hints and suggestions and maunderings were better than her digging a new grave on that hillside, which was more than a possibility as coldly angry as she was.

Soon, the Reverend Dawkins was gone, having caught the train to London, fleeing his nightmares, and I had the agreeable thought to suggest to the Church a young man, a relative of someone I'd known long ago and still corresponded with, someone I thought might fit in well here from what his great uncle said of him; he came to visit, as a trial, and I spoke frankly to him of the village and the homesteads and mostly of Haven, though telling no great secrets or betraying any confidences, and I was pleased that he was of above usual understanding and compassion. He visited with Haven, accepted them and their having their own ways, and it has worked out well. I think he will be like me, probably spending his days here, in content and honest endeavor; I think he has an eye to a lass in one of the nearby villages, one well content with village life and a goodly soul, and that would make his tenure more complete. 

I was pleased to have him here, in place, well established when some thought to purse their lips and turn up their noses when the babes started to come. Oh, the first two, Jamie and Louisa, twins, not them; no one expected them to NOT look like Peter, and Jamie did, though Louisa was Clan through and through, red hair and all. But the next two, Karl and Kathleen? Well, Karl was the very image of Andrew, and that caught everyone's attention quite well. I took a stand, of course, and so did our new Reverend, him reminding them all that they had enough business of their own to be minding without trying to mind that of their neighbors; me reminding them of Haven always having had their own ways, and most particularly, of Caeide's temper. Caeide herself took a part, and Morleith and his wife, the biggest of the gossips, departed for greener pastures, rather than face her again. Thankfully that was all settled before the next two, since the boy again took after Andrew, and next time around? Well, two boys, one looking like Peter, the other like Andrew, and wasn't THAT a surprise!

Haven? Well, Haven has endured and grown in love and strength. There are many children now, so many children, and blessed be, one of them is my namesake, young Morgana Deann. A sweet child, all Clan, through and through, and we are fast friends, though I can say the same for each of the others as well; still, I'd thought my name would die with me, the name given me to honor my own father and grandfather, and it means a great deal to know it will not, that it will be borne by a child of the family that has somehow become like my own. 

And now, I live at Haven. Peter says my cottage is too remote, and he is probably right. I had not liked to intrude, but they all called that foolishness, though they had allowed me my own way for some time. But when the threat of the reivers came on us, Haven arrived with carts and horses and simply gathered me in, pony and possessions and all, and wouldn't hear of my leaving again.

Now, I have my own snug room; I busy myself with the youngsters, telling them stories, listening to them tell me about their day, their dreams and hopes and plans. I sit at the fire and am part of the easy conversing that happens there of an evening. I am pampered and loved and made to feel a part of what Haven is. My choices have blessed me with this, have let me watch Peter heal and grow into the strong, capable father and husband and lover that he is.

And I know that this is best; that if I had been given such a one as him in my youth, my courage and strength would not have been sufficient, would not have allowed me to draw him close to me, treasure and cherish him as he should be; but here, I can sit at the fireside and watch his face, his smile, hear his voice and rejoice in the richness of his life. And when I look at Caeide, at Andrew, I know that they see and understand that, accept and treasure that their most beloved Peter has yet another who loves him.


End file.
